


paperwork

by civillove



Series: plans wrapped in rubber bands [15]
Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: F/M, Soft Rio (Good Girls)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 14:59:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18943309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/civillove/pseuds/civillove
Summary: From a prompt list: “I think I’m in trouble” + “I’m not going to yell at you” + a request from anon including sexting (which I adapted, just a little)Basically: Beth begins to struggle with a side to Rio she didn’t expect + making a drop on her own because he can’t make it (cue someone trying to take advantage of her).--“Those matchin’ pajama sets are somethin’ else, don’t you get hot in those while you sleep?” He asks, taking another sip of his tea. It’s so conversational it almost gives her whiplash and a small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth.





	paperwork

**Author's Note:**

> I waited to post this because I’m taking the long weekend (AND am missing Good Girls Sunday night, pray for me y’all, it’s going to kill me watching the finale late). Feel free to leave me some prompts, I got some to work with still but I’m always into having too many than not enough.  
> Thanks to everyone who’s followed this series, read and left kudos or reviews. I also really appreciate if you’re dropping prompts. Tackle hugs for all!

As she’s packing up some boxes in her bedroom, she knows that divorce is the best option but it still won’t make _this_ part any easier—the leaving. Her and Dean are talking, which is good, they’re actually communicating about the future they want to have—ironically it took legal papers to make it happen. Nothing is set in stone about who is moving where or how they’re divvying up holidays, birthdays, and weekends but… she can’t deny that the idea of having a smaller place of her own hasn’t passed her mind.

She didn’t want to give up the house when it felt like Dean was taking everything from her, but now that they’re actually having conversations of what’s going to happen when, she finds herself thinking about a very particular open and rustic space with exposed brick.

Beth loves her home, loves her kitchen and pastel colored bedroom, glass shower and the extensive amount of work she’s done in her garden and patio but there’s a romanticized concept of moving that keeps playing with her thoughts.

Despite a few days passing, the memory of that morning spent at Rio’s with Marcus keeps entering her thoughts. In fact, it’s getting to the point that when it enters her mind she doesn’t try to push it away anymore.

_Her body is sore as she pulls herself from Rio’s bed, her feet gently padding against the wooden floor as she walks to his kitchen with orange juice in her hand. Even though she didn’t really do much last night, this groggy aching feeling is all part of the hangover and she stretches her arms over her head to get her bones to pop. She rubs her neck as Rio hands her the aspirin bottle with a small shake, the pills hitting against the sides noisily._

_He then takes batter out of the fridge to set it on the counter next to Marcus, who is holding onto a spoon like a shield, his eyes wide and excited as they settle on the bowl._

_“You hold onto that spoon any tighter you’re gonna bend it.” Rio teases, his fingers scruffing up his hair before taking the saran wrap off the bowl._

_Beth leans against the counter, pouring two aspirin out into her hand and pausing to pinch the bridge of her nose. She takes them quickly, the acidic taste of oranges resting heavily on her tongue. She hopes they kick in fast, her headache is quickly moving down the back of her head and into her the muscles of her neck._

_She feels stiff and uncomfortable but when Marcus’s eyes land on her, she tries to give him the softest of smiles._

_“That your favorite part? Spooning the batter?”_

_He nods his head and watches his father plug in the dinosaur waffle iron. “You can do it though, if you want.”_

_She chuckles a little and runs her thumb over the bottom of her orange juice glass where condensation has gathered. “And take it away from the lead chef? I wouldn’t dare.”_

_“He already thinks that he can make oatmeal in the microwave without it bubblin’ over everywhere, please don’t encourage him.” Rio tuts but his voice is warm when he looks over his shoulder at her._

_Beth chews on her lower lip, her eyes tracing down his back, a long line in the white t-shirt over his skin. She wants to kiss each of the tattoos on the back of his arms, simple blocks of ink, four in a row and wonders if there’s a story to them._

_“You want somethin’ hot?” He asks, pulling her from her thoughts. He motions to the orange juice she’s nursing, “Might help with the headache.”_

_Coffee sounds_ amazing _but as she takes a look around, she doesn’t see a coffee pot or a Keurig. She does however see an electric kettle plugged in near the fridge. He must follow her gaze because a soft smirk tugs at the edges of his mouth as he moves to take two mugs out of the cupboards,_

_“Hope you like tea.”_

_“Tea’s fine.” She assures him, wandering over to an assortment of tins. He has such a vast selection that it overwhelms her, everything organized by the leaves being black or green. She chews on her lower lip, her hand hovering over one because…_

_“Go head,” He nudges her shoulder with his own, “All of a sudden you’re shy about goin’ through my things?”_

_He’s teasing her and yet a soft blush blossoms over her cheekbones and splotches down her neck. Yeah, not her finest moment, she knows that…but at least they can seemingly joke about it now. She’s afraid to think about it for too long, as if he can read her and sense how much he’s opening up about all this; about Marcus and his place and just as quickly snap shut like a clam._

_Her hand settles on the lid of_ Ginger-Turmeric _and tugs it forward so she can smell the teabags inside. It’s instantly pungent, almost taking her breath away, but the spices are comforting and she takes a teabag out to drop it into one of the mugs. He then pours hot water from the electric tea kettle and takes a look over his shoulder at Marcus before handing her the mug._

_“Honey’s in the cabinet over there.” He motions before checking the waffle iron to see if it’s ready._

_Beth can’t remember the last time she’s had waffles…maybe mother’s day a few years ago? It’s easier in her house to make oatmeal or go for a cold breakfast. With four kids, it takes a lot of effort on her part to make hot meals when everyone’s trying to get out of the house on time. French toast is a war within itself, even though it’s a house favorite—she has to get up early to make the batter and make sure the bread is ready and frying by the time the kids get downstairs._

_She blows on the steam curling up out of her cup and frowns when she hears Marcus sneeze not once but twice, nearly dropping the spoon out of his hand._

“ _Hey_ , _cover your mouth, pop_.” _Rio scolds, lifting his son’s elbow as if to show him. He lets out a soft sigh and cups the side of his head, running his thumb over his forehead to discreetly check his temperature. He then picks him up to set him on the floor, taking the spoon from his hand. “Wash up, go.”_

_He nods dutifully and disappears out of the kitchen to the bathroom, Rio putting the spoon in the sink before grabbing a ladle instead. Beth moves to take the honey out of the cabinet, squeezing a decent amount into her tea cup._

_“He feeling alright?”_

_Rio leans against the counter, watching her as he stirs the batter. “Allergies, I think.”_

_Beth hums under her breath, taking a sip of her tea, the liquid hot and soothing against her throat. Her headache is finally starting to dissipate around her temples and she takes a moment to hold the mug near her lips and nose so the steam can caress her face._

_“It’s that time of year,” She muses, “My kids have been sick on and off for the past few weeks.” She scrunches her nose, “They keep giving it to one another.”_

_Part of this doesn’t feel real, drinking tea in his kitchen, about to have breakfast with his kid, talking about things that have nothing to do with job. All of his walls are down, rubble on the floor but she’s almost afraid to accept they’re spending time together_ outside _of work—as if there’s some sort of tripwire she doesn’t know about, ready to explode._

 _She swallows, doesn’t want to ask but she can’t stop herself_ , “ _It_ is _alright I’m staying for breakfast, right?”_

_He watches her for a moment, letting the ladle sit against the side of the bowl. Rio then takes a few steps into her space, his hands moving to rest on the counter, arms creating a cage around her body. She licks her lips, fingers wrapping around the warmth of her tea mug, squeezing the ceramic. Her eyes trace over the lines of his face, the soft scruff of his jawline, the fullness of his lower lip; her hand itches to touch the crisp creases in his white t-shirt but she doesn’t._

_“If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t’ve brought you here.”_

_His hand comes up to cup her face, curling a piece of her hair around her ear. Beth turns her face into his touch, her eyes slipping closed as his thumb brushes along her cheekbone where a bruise once was._

_“You remember tellin’ me about your divorce last night?”_

_Beth scrunches her nose, her head falling back a little because god, last night—she’d rather not think about it. “Sort of.”_

_Rio smirks softly, his other hand squeezing her waist. “You sign papers yet?”_

_She takes another sip of tea, as if to distract herself from his question because… “No.” She says after a moment, feeling a little awkward that she’s told him something that isn’t in motion. He’s given her the papers, she has them on her nightstand next to her bed and it’s just…taking her longer than expected to actually bite the bullet. “I’m going to,” She’s not sure why she feels like she has to say it out loud, as if she’s assuring him—or herself. “Did I say anything else last night?” Beth changes the subject, watching as a smile pulls the edges of Rio’s mouth._

_“Somethin’ about my lips.”_

_Her cheeks are definitely red now, “Not sure why I would say that.”_

_He inches closer, his lips brushing hers, “Nah?” His voice is a deep whisper that reaches into her stomach and squeezes._

_“Nope.” She says back, purposely popping her ‘p’, and kisses him anyways._

She could get a place as nice as Rio’s, distantly wonders how much it costs but…as she looks around her room, she really considers if that’s what she wants or if she’s just clinging to how she last felt in his place.

Beth sighs softly and closes a box, pushing it towards her dresser before she stands and takes a sip of coffee. Her eyes fall to the divorce documents on her nightstand, the blue papers staring at her like they’re silently judging her decisions (or lack thereof). She rubs a sore spot on the back of her shoulder and takes a few steps towards her nightstand…and then Dean walks into the bedroom.

He eyes the boxes with a soft curious expression before sticking his hands in his pockets. “Moving out already? You know I’m…I wasn’t going to make you move, seeing as how I’m the one who started this whole thing anyways.”

Beth feels herself chuckle, “Uh, no. Just some stuff for Goodwill, figured why not.” She wonders if he'll be so lenient when he realizes where she's been spending her time as of late, who she's been spending it with and what she's been doing.

“No work today?” He asks, wandering in and taking a seat on the corner of the bed. His eyes fall to her, grazing over her form. She can almost feel it, like his stumbling hands are yanking on the fabric of her house clothes—leggings and a black t-shirt that has bleach stains.

She chews on her lower lip and knows that he’s asking about the dealership but her mind automatically thinks about the last conversation she had with Rio—she has a pick-up to make tonight, on her own, and it shouldn’t be a big deal. Something quick and easy because he’s caught up in something else.

_A buzzing wakes her and for a moment in her sleep-fogged brain she thinks she left her vibrator on from last night and hits the drawer blindly with her hand. It’s however not that, because that makes zero sense, and picks up her phone to answer it without looking at who’s calling—_

_“’Lo?” She mumbles, rubbing a hand over her eyes._

_“Did I wake you?”_

_“Obviously.” He sounds far too amused for her liking and she wonders where he is, hears plates and cups clink in the background. Café? Beth huffs and presses her face into the pillow, muffling her voice. “What time is it?”_

_“Six forty-five,” Rio says and he takes a sip of something, probably tea. “What, you pullin’ a day in bed, ma?”_

_She groans, turning over to lie on her back, her hand running over her face to pinch the bridge of her nose. “You woke me up fifteen minutes earlier than my alarm, this better be good.”_

_“It could be,” He says after a moment and her hand falls from her face, her stomach fluttering at the implication in his voice. She swallows, awake now, listening to the silence that fills between them. “You said fifteen minutes?”_

_Beth’s mouth goes dry. “Are you in public?”_

_She can picture him shrugging, “Would it help if I said yes?”_

_God. Something tight and hot squeezes her torso, heat curling its way down, lower and lower. She clears her throat, squirming a little as she hears something shift on the phone, maybe him moving in his seat. She pictures him at a café, where she’s met him a few times, finishing up crispy breakfast potatoes and drinking tea._

_“You wearin’ one of those matchin’ pajama sets?”_

_“No,” she answers quickly, all of those are dirty and she hasn’t had a chance to wash them. “Just a long tank.”_

_Rio hums softly and she allows her eyes to close, thinks about him drawing his lower lip into his mouth. Her hand slips under the covers, tugging the tank up and toying with the edge of her underwear._

_“Where’s your hand?” He softens his voice very purposely; are people passing his table? It lights a fire in her stomach and at his question she slips a hand into her underwear. “They’re in your panties, aren’t they.” He knows because he’s not asking and a soft sound leaves her as her finger glides down closed lips._

_Her insides ache, right at her center, already so wound up just from the sound of his voice. She can’t believe she’s doing this._

_“Don’t say panties.” She says, mind whirring too fast that she doesn’t know what else to say._

_Rio chuckles softly, “You still sensitive about that, huh? Now I know why, turns you on to hear me say it, doesn’t it?”_

_She doesn’t answer, instead slips a finger inside as her response. She shudders, letting the phone fall loose against her ear. She pictures Rio between her legs, under the covers, his scruff brushing along the inside of her thighs as her hand strokes his short hair._

“ _You thinkin’ about me slidin’ between your legs? Mouth on the inside of your thighs…”_

_Too well, he knows her too well—knows exactly what buttons she’s pressing within herself. Beth moans, slips another finger inside, imagines his hand instead of hers, his tongue circling her clit._

_“Rio,” She whispers, almost begging, doesn’t want him to tease her._

_He smiles, she can hear it through the phone, fork scraping against his plate. Is he actually eating while they’re doing this? He’s that calm and collected in public, tearing her apart?_

_“Or would you rather my mouth somewhere else?” He asks, almost pointed and she gasps as her fingers quicken, other hand moving under the covers to rub her clit. “You close?”_

_“Yes,” She whispers, arching her back ever so slightly, bending her knees. Beth thinks about his hands, the slight curl of his fingers as she thrusts in and out of herself._

_“Elizabeth.” Rio says, almost too gentle, tongue curling around the vowels and that’s all it takes to push her over the edge._

_She cums, a drawn out whining noise leaving her throat as she buckles. She pulls her hands out of her underwear, yanking the covers back because her skin is kissed with sweat. Her thighs are shaking, pleasure licking at her nerve endings and fuzzing black in front of her vision._

_“Those matchin’ pajama sets are somethin’ else, don’t you get hot in those while you sleep?” He asks, taking another sip of his tea. It’s so conversational it almost gives her whiplash and a small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth._

_Beth doesn’t bother responding to him as she huffs out a soft breath, fanning her bangs off her forehead while turning over onto her stomach. She presses her face against her pillow, her heartbeat slowing down in her ears as she regulates her breathing._

_“Your hair fanned out over your pillow?”_

_“I dunno, think so.” She says lazily, letting her eyes closed. “Why?”_

_“I like it that way,” He says something so weighted and warm like he’s talking about the weather, offhanded, as if he’s worried that it might sound too intimate. “You ready to talk business or are you gonna fall asleep on me.”_

_She’s about to do just that and sits up, a soft yawn escaping her lips, “If I did, whose fault would that be?”_

_Rio hums under his breath and pauses to say something to a waitress, shuffling to maybe pull out his wallet from his back pocket. “Remember that pick-up tonight?”_

_She clears her throat, rubbing the back of her neck, “Yeah, at the dealership. It’s on my calendar; eight right?”_

_“I can’t make it, somethin’ came up.”_

_She feels a weight fall into her stomach, pausing a moment as his words echo in her ears. She licks her lips, playing with sheets between her fingers. She knows not every situation is Warez, or what happened at the motel but part of her is…apprehensive. He must be able to sense it in her silence, knows her well enough that she doesn’t have to say anything._

_“It’s okay if you’re nervous—”_

_“I’m not,” She interrupts, squirming a little under his microscope. The last thing she wants to be is useless in his eyes, that she can’t do a simple pick-up because she’s_ afraid _. She’s_ _capable, she can do this thing._

_“I can do it,” She assures him, curling hair around her ear._

_“I know you can.” He agrees and she hears a door open and close, the sound of traffic, car horns and screeching tires. “It’s not about that.”_

_Beth straightens her back, pulling the covers back completely to crawl out of bed. She wanders into the bathroom and turns her shower on, leaning against the sink as she holds the phone close, her thumb running along the outer edge._

_“It’s picking up a bag and taking out a cut, shouldn’t take more than five minutes. You didn’t get any weird vibes right, this client’s fine?”_

_“That don't always mean anythin',” Rio says, considering something for a moment. She can picture him clenching his jaw in her mind’s eye, chewing on a thoughts before he says, “I want you to call me if somethin’ doesn’t feel right.”_

_She lets out a long sigh, looking at her ceiling, “Rio—”_

_“I mean it.” Beth’s quiet, listening to the water run in her shower. Even though she doesn’t want to need it, the extra security blanket of being able to call him does sound appealing…so she nods, even though he can’t see her._

_“Alright, I hear you.”_

_She hears a car door open and close, “Lemme know if you’re interested in me becoming your regular alarm clock, yeah?”_

_And she hangs up before she does something stupid like consider his offer._

“Beth?”

Dean’s voice draws her out of her thoughts and she blinks at him because oh, right, he asked her a question.

“Tonight I have to stop by the dealership and pick up some paperwork.” She clears her throat, opening up another cardboard box to fill with some clothes she doesn’t wear anymore from under the bed bins.

Dean’s eyes flicker to the nightstand, “Speaking of paperwork...”

She doesn’t follow his gaze, knows what he’s talking about. “Tomorrow,” She promises. “They’ll be on your desk tomorrow.”

He nods once before getting off the bed and disappearing out of the bedroom. Beth sighs, running a hand over her face as she sits on the floor to sort through more clothes: she’s not sure what she’s waiting for either.

\--

The bag is waiting for her at the back door of Boland motors along with a tall, skinny man, smoking a cigarette and looking way too skittish. She approaches him slowly but even with careful steps he nearly jumps when he sees her.

“Mr. Ronald, right?”

He nods, looking over her shoulder and, “Where’s Rio?”

She sighs and sticks her hands in her pockets, trying to appear relaxed as much as possible. “He couldn’t make it; I’m his business partner, Beth.”

His eyes are scanning the parking lot, looking for some sort of trap. He doesn’t know her and she gets that, she knows what it’s like to be paranoid, that feeling of almost always getting caught. This isn’t good. “Rio said he’d meet me here.”

Beth licks her lips, taking a step back from him. She thinks about the gun in her purse and grounds her heels into the pavement because no, she doesn’t need that, this guy is just spooked. He’s not a threat.

She doesn’t want to call him; she’s convinced she can do this herself. It’s just a damn pickup. “Look, this is simple,” She says, her voice soothing. “Just give me the bag, you’ll get your cut and you can go.”

“I don’t trust you,” He spits. “I don’t know you.”

She sighs, so tired of running into problems. “You don’t have to trust me to be able to get your cut of money. You can cut it yourself, I can wait by my car.”

And that’s when she makes a mistake—she starts to lean in, very slowly reaching for the bag to encourage him into action and he _grabs_ her. He quickly spins her around and holds her against his chest, something sharp and cold along her neck. A soft noise of surprise leaves her throat and she puts her hands up, heart jack hammering against her ribcage.

“Mr. Ronald—” She tries to steady her voice and winces when the blade cuts a thin stripe along her collarbone from their shared movement. Blood seeps out of the cut, contrastingly warm against the chill of the air on her skin.

He’s hesitates but his grip on her doesn’t loosen and when she feels that blade rest against her throat Rio’s lessons kick in almost immediately from the motel that feels so long ago. She throws her elbow back and cracks with something warm and solid. He reacts almost instantly, yelping and stumbling back, letting her go. Beth takes the opportunity to grab the bag, her breathing labored from adrenaline. Shaking fingers tear the zipper back, pulling out what roughly looks like Ronald’s cut and tosses it at him.

“You _bitch!”_ He snaps and reaches for her, swinging his knife but she’s already high-tailing it back to her van. Luckily she’s left it unlocked and throws herself into the driver’s seat, tires screeching as she leaves the parking lot.

She pulls onto the road, straightening out the steering wheel so she’s not jerking the van from side to side. Beth takes a look through the rearview mirror, letting out a slow breath as her heart beats wildly in her ears. Her fingers clench, trying to stop the shaking before…

Before a car pulls up behind her.

“Shit.” She mumbles and straightens against her seat.

She talks herself into it not meaning anything until the car follows two of her right turns. Beth’s almost going in circles at this point because she doesn’t want to go home, she can’t lead this guy back to her neighborhood, her house, her kids…but she doesn’t know what else to do. She reaches into her bag and pulls out her phone, typing in his number from memory.

It rings, and rings, and rings—he doesn’t pick up. Panic starts to bubble in the bottom of her stomach as she glances out the rearview mirror, her fingers fumbling as she hits redial.

“What’s goin’ on?” He asks instantly after the third ring, his voice is a little muffled, like he has his phone pressed between his ear and shoulder.

“What’s going on is that you didn’t pick up.” She almost snaps, making a left turn only for the car to follow.

Rio lets out a slow, patient breath, “Elizabeth, what’s wrong?”

There’s an upcoming traffic light and she feels all the color drain from her face because what if she stops the van? What if Ronald gets out and…?

“Ronald freaked out. I think I’m in trouble, he’s following me.”

She can hear shifting on the other end, the jingle of keys before he opens and closes a door. “I need you to drive towards my place, there’s a café about six blocks away; park in front of it, get out of your van and start walkin’. I’ll find you.”

Beth wants to ask questions, wants to protest the idea of leaving her van but he’s already hung up. She groans in frustration and hits the gas, making it through a green light turning yellow and relief curls in her stomach as she sees him stop at the red light. She keeps up the pace, going above the speed limit towards Rio’s place and nearly jumps out of the car when she pulls up in front of the café.

She grabs the bag of cash and her purse, putting it over her shoulder as she begins to walk. Her shoes click noisily on the pavement as she covers one block and then two, not another soul walking around in the cool night air but her. She holds the bags a little closer to her, swallowing as she looks over her shoulder at any soft noise, any footstep, any screeching of tires that might be Ronald—

And walks right into someone. She struggles instantly as they put their hands on her arms before Rio enters her vision and she realizes it’s him.

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re good. Just me.” He soothes, his voice soft but firm. She lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, leaning forward into his touch as he squeezes her arms. He tilts his head and his expression goes cold, a distant look in his eyes as he sees the red mark on her collarbone.

“I’m fine,” She says quickly, trying to dismiss his gaze. All she wants to do is get moving.

“That doesn’t look fine.” Rio comments because it’s clear he doesn’t believe her; he does however take the duffle bag from her grasp as they walk towards his apartment.

Beth doesn’t feel like she can relax until Rio’s apartment door closes, the echo settling into her bones as she drops her purse and coat onto his couch. It’s amazing to her how she keeps finding her way back here, a place she never thought she’d see, a place she didn’t know existed, so many nights and meetings and conversations in her own house that it still feels foreign to end up _here._

She takes off her shoes by the door, an almost automatic reaction, and breathes in the slightly woodsy scent that his apartment has…it’s mixed with something else, this time, homemade and rich from the kitchen. Some sort of soup? He’s cooked dinner in the past few hours, the scent still lingering and settling warmly in her stomach.

She wants to take a peek, can still see dishes out on the counter and a pot on the stove but suddenly Rio’s rounding her and his hands are on her shoulders.

“Lemme see.”

Beth licks her lips and tries not to roll her eyes—is this how he feels when he shows up at her place needing patched up and she won’t leave him alone? She tugs her shirt aside, better to get it over with, and can feel his gaze tracing over the angry cut on her collarbone. It’s sore and hot to the touch, dried blood ruining the collar of her shirt and pale skin beneath.

It’s then she notices he’s dressed comfortably again, simple black joggers and a tank top that gives a great view of his arms. They almost match with her leggings and bleached t-shirt from earlier in the day; as if they fit in this space together more than other times before.

“Come on, I got a first-aid kit in the bathroom.”

He doesn’t wait for her to follow him but she knows the way, just past his bed. He’s got a beautiful, glass, walk in shower and a long marble sink that doesn’t have many belongings on it other than cologne, a facewash and Marcus’s toothbrush that is clearly the bright green one next to a simple gray one. There’s a wall to wall mirror, stretching almost half the room and her eyes find her face as she wanders into the space. She looks tired and frazzled, which just makes her sooth her fingers through her hair like it might help.

The last thing she feels like doing is taking her shirt off but she knows she’s going to have to in order for him to clean her cut. She slowly takes the fabric over her head, setting it on the counter, her arms wrapping around herself automatically even though he’s seen so much more than this. His lips twitch, just a little, wanting to smile at her lime-green polka dot bra.

“Shut up, it was the only thing clean.”

Rio shakes his head, smirks but says nothing as he digs out some cotton swaps and antiseptic. He makes quick work of it, not warning her about the sting because she knows it’s coming. Her eyes squeeze shut as he cleans the wound, fingers warm and gentle in a way she feels like only she knows.

She chews on her lower lip, watching his face as he makes sure the bleeding has stopped; she won’t need a bandage. He’s quiet, concentrated and she already knows this isn’t good as he holds his thumb against the cut for a few moments. Beth tries to catch his gaze but he won’t look at her long enough, the muscles of his jaw working as he responds to her without saying anything.

“Can you just yell about this already?”

His eyes flicker up to hers, the softest of crinkles appearing between his eyebrows. “I’m not gonna yell at you.”

Beth chews on the inside of her cheek, letting out a slow breath as she forcibly peels back Rio’s layers because they’ve been here before. “Tell me you’re not going to do anything about this; you can’t just handle every situation by killing someone.”

He purposely ignores her question, pulling his hands back and throwing away bloody cotton balls before closing the first aid kit. Beth reaches out and grabs onto his wrist, making him pause before he can move away from her. His eyes meet hers, so dark that she almost wants to fall headfirst into them.

“Rio, promise me.”

She can’t deal with another Warez; sometimes all the shit she goes through is part of the job, they both know that. And yet…and yet she can’t stop the warm pit in her stomach from blossoming outwards at how he _cares,_ regardless if he won’t admit it to anyone. Sometimes that’s the thing about Rio: his actions are more complex than anything else about him.

He sighs, looking down at the hand on his wrist. He turns his palm after a moment, squeezing her fingertips even though it appears physically painful for him to consider her request let alone abide by it.

“I promise I won't kill him,” He says after a moment, “Though I’m not gonna promise he'll have very good use of his hands after I talk to him.”

She can’t tell if he’s being serious or not, especially with the wink he gives her as he disappears out of the bathroom but figures this is the best version of this conversation that she’s going to get. She runs a hand over her face, Rio coming back a few minutes later with another t-shirt for her to wear.

He picks up the one she has crumpled in a ball on the counter and tosses it towards the corner of the room where some laundry is gathering. She pulls the fabric over her head easily, taking a slow breath as it settles along her skin. Beth’s getting too used to this; the prospect of spending so much time at his place, wearing his clothes, and eating a casual breakfast with his son is getting dangerous.

She finds herself enjoying it far too much, this version of Rio etching it’s way into her chest cavity to the point where she’s not going to be able to get him out.

“Think I can go home?”

Rio opens his mouth to reply but a small sleepy body appears in the doorway of the bathroom, clutching a stuffed animal along his chest as he rubs his eyes against the bright light. Beth’s mouth opens slightly because she thought for sure Marcus would be back with his mom. She’s unsure of the arrangement Rio has with his ex, but it felt like a good assumption to make seeing as how she just saw his son here a few days ago.

 “Hey pop,” He says softly, his hand finding the other’s hair. “What’s a matter, can’t sleep?” He picks him up, holding him on his hip, “You gonna say hi to Ms. Beth?”

She offers a small smile but Marcus doesn’t even look at her, in fact, as she takes a step closer she notices how pale he looks. His normally tan skin has a sheen of sweat on it, hair mussed up, eyes drawn and exhausted. Poor thing looks miserable and she has to stop every instinct in herself that’s telling her to _reach out and touch,_ especially when his face screws up in a hiccupped sob and he begins to cry.

Rio sighs out softly, gently turning him so he’s fully against his chest, “Yeah we're not feelin' too hot, huh?”

Beth runs a solid hand up and down Marcus’s spine, her expression pinching in sympathy—she hates seeing any kid cry but especially this one, eyes usually so wide and bright as he takes in the world around him. She remembers a few days ago that Rio thought he just had allergies but her sneaking suspicion had been right that he was getting sick. Suddenly it makes sense why Rio couldn’t come to the pick-up tonight; he was busy with Marcus.

“If he can’t sleep, honey in some warm milk might help. That’s what I usually give mine when they’re sick. Jane’s the really weird one who likes it with chocolate milk but who I am to judge.” She scrunches her nose a little at the thought and feels a soft blush kiss her cheeks when she realizes Rio’s watching her.

Always considering something before he does it, like he’s putting three different scenarios through his head to see what plays out better. He gives a soft nod to the idea and his hand cradles the back of Marcus’s head as he leaves the bathroom, intent on taking him back to his bedroom.

He doesn’t make it very far however before Marcus says against his neck, “Wan sleep with you.” His voice is muffled, mostly a bunch of sounds into Rio’s t-shirt but he understands him perfectly.

“You wanna sleep with me?” Rio rolls Marcus onto his back before setting him onto his bed, “How are we all supposed to fit here with you bein’ so big?” He tickles his stomach and despite Marcus not feeling well he curls up and _laughs,_ the sound filling the apartment and tugging at the ends of Beth’s mouth, “Like a raptor or somethin’.”  

“A brachiosaurus dad!”

He smirks and ruffles his hair as Beth walks past them to the kitchen, “A brachiosaurus, excuse me.”

She grabs a mug from the cabinet and fills it up halfway with milk, she then sets it in the microwave. The key isn’t to get it too hot because the milk will curdle and it’s supposed to be comforting enough that you shouldn’t have to blow on it. Beth chews on her lower lip as she waits, her eyes wandering over pots that need washed and unused ingredients on the counter. A soft smile pulls onto her face as she realizes he made homemade chicken noodle soup.

 _Soup_ , she remembers him teasing, _from a can._

She shakes her head and takes the milk out when the microwave beeps and stirs in honey, wandering back to the bedroom to find Rio lying in bed, propped up against the headboard with Marcus between his legs. He’s lying on his chest, eyes closed, and she’s nearly punched in the stomach with the sight. It’s…somehow different than seeing Dean with their kids, probably because regardless of the fact she keeps seeing Rio this way, keeps experiencing him other than the criminal she’s partners with, it’s still hard getting used to. That he’s…softer, warm, that he melts around his kid.

That her and him are alike in so many ways.

Rio gently squeezes the back of Marcus’s neck and he sits up, one big yawn following the action. She hands him the cup of milk,

“What do we say?” He prompts, voice softer than she expects it to be. He sounds tired too.

“Thank you, Ms. Beth.” Big brown eyes look up at her before he starts sipping and Beth can’t help but smile, reaching forward again to run her fingers through his hair in a soothing manner that’s directly from her mom handbook.

“You’re welcome. Make sure you drink all of it.”

She’s standing awkwardly at the side of the bed as Marcus finishes his mug of milk, instantly turning into his father to settle against his chest as he hands the mug back to her. Rio licks his lips, a wide palm resting on Marcus’s back before he pulls the covers up over him. She can’t count the many times she’s had to do this with her kids, allow them to take up her bed, sometimes with Dean on the other side—the lengths a parent goes to make their children feel better.

She takes the mug back to the kitchen and rinses it out before putting it in the dishwasher, milling around the space to clean up. It’s mostly out of habit and while she knows Rio is capable, sometimes it’s nice to have someone there to _help._ She takes the pot off the stove and finds a container to put leftover soup into before washing it out, cleaning the ladle and putting everything into the dishwasher. She sets a cycle before drying her hands on a tea towel, wandering back over to Rio’s bedroom where Marcus is fast asleep.

“You didn’t have to do all that.” He whispers, tilting his head towards the kitchen as Beth sits on the bed near his legs.

She shrugs her one shoulder, “You’d do it for me.” Wouldn’t he? She holds his gaze for a long moment, Rio’s hand creating patterned circles on his son’s back. He nods his head, once, but doesn’t say anything. Instead he stretches his back a little against the headboard, a soft and long sigh leaving his nose.

“I’m stuck here for probably forever, gonna have to continue jobs without me.”

Beth smirks, “Like I need you anyways, being a boss bitch and all.”

Rio smiles, shaking his head as he ducks his chin, amusement flickering in his tired eyes. This is the first time she thinks she’s ever seen him so worn at the edges, almost human in this bed with his son, making sure he sleeps even if he misses out on some himself. Her heart aches in her chest, pulling all the way into her stomach as she gives him the line he so often gives her,

“You should get some sleep.”

He nods a moment before looking back up at her, “You can stay.”

As tempting as that prospect is, she knows she has to leave. “I have to go, there are some things I have to take care of.”

Rio chews on the inside of his cheek, his hand pausing on Marcus’s back to sink down near her knee, “Gettin’ your house in order?”

She smiles softly, “Something like that.” and squeezes his hand in her own before standing, gathering her things to head out the door.

\--

The moment Beth enters her house, she knows what she has to do. Dean is asking her something as she passes his office but she doesn’t stop to answer him. She takes the steps to her bedroom, a few minutes later walking back down to place signed divorce papers on his desk.

He stares at them a moment, glancing up at her with a look that she can’t quite describe. He nods and before she can turn from his office he asks,

“What is it about him?”

Beth pauses and turns to look at Dean again as he leans forward on his desk, eyes curious. She doesn’t need to ask who he’s referring to and something clamps down inside her on the notion that it’s really none of his business.

“Does he like, listen to you more?” Rio does, even when he doesn’t want to—she can picture him in her mind’s eye, jaw clenching, chin pillowed against his palm, eyes trained on her and _open_ as she talks. “Or you know, encourage you in ways that I don’t?”

 _Be a boss bitch. Keys to the kingdom. I think you could be somethin’. You did what you always do; what you had to. So what if he underestimates you—that’ll be somethin’ he regrets._ _I know you’re not a damsel. I know exactly what you’re capable of._

Yes, it’s about all those things that Dean’s mentioned but it’s about other things too: it’s the way he looks at her, takes her apart with his hands, gentle and soothing fingers along the side of her face, it’s about teaching her how to hold a gun, how to fire, how to punch someone and bruise someone’s eye socket with her elbow. It’s about working like magnets, learning together, the jobs seamless when they listen to one another; _actually_ listen. It’s about seeing Rio in his apartment, the way he speaks and holds his son, the way he cups her cheek and cleans her up when shit gets rough.

But none of that belongs to Dean and so she gives him what’s probably the most obvious:

“I just really like having sex with him.” She nods after a moment, shrugging her one shoulder at his expression. “Yeah.”

She enjoys his mouth opening into a large ‘O’ at her admission far too much as she turns to walk out of his office.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I obviously do not take credit for the last scene, some dialogue taken directly from the show. But it was too good not to pass up for this conversation ;)  
> Thanks so much for reading! I’ve got lots of prompts that I’m currently working with, so, that’s exciting. Good luck to everyone watching the finale on Sunday—we’re in for SOMETHIN.


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